


Petals in Frost

by tealmoon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Bondage, Dom/sub, Gen, Non-Sexual Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Sensory Overload, could be viewed as fontcest but was intended as platonic, kink as coping method
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealmoon/pseuds/tealmoon
Summary: When the world became too much to handle, Sans would help Papyrus in any way he could. It didn’t matter that it was "unorthodox."





	Petals in Frost

Papyrus was always so obvious when he got like this. Maybe it was for the best, so Sans could be prepared for it, but it hurt, having the whole town know. Sans had passed two of the rabbits, on their way back to Snowdin, only to see them smirk his way. They didn’t laugh, fortunate for them. That would be an unacceptable amount of disrespect and he didn’t have time to be administering punishments. “You’d better go collect your dog, Lieutenant. He’s getting out of hand.”

What had it been this time? Teenagers fighting around his sentry station? Had someone been dusted? Or was it merely the endless expanse of painfully white snow spread around him, with nothing else to look at? Hopefully it was just that: deaths meant so much extra paperwork.

The mutt wasn’t sitting at his station, instead pacing around in front of it, wearing a path into the snow. Ocher magic wisped out of his eye socket, just waiting for a potential target.

Luckily, no matter how bad things got, Sans would never be a target. “ _Heel_.” They didn’t always use the leash, but clearly it was necessary today. In all his gathered agitation, Papyrus still managed to stop in front of him, leaning down so Sans could clip the lead to his spiked collar.

The leash was both to ground Papyrus and to placate the public; better to have that ‘crazed, feral monster’ visibly under control. If Papyrus didn’t enjoy being tugged along behind his diminutive brother, Sans would have felt bad about it, playing up this side of him. Papyrus was a brilliant and kind person, not that any of these monsters would care to know. When he was coherent, it tore him up to hear those things. The world was kill or be killed, but he still wanted to be _friends_ with people who gossiped about him behind their hands.

But right now, none of that mattered to him. He pulled at the leash, growling at anyone who strayed too close, all to protect Sans. His world had narrowed itself down to enemies and pain. Sans couldn’t help but speed up, though he needed to appear calm and unconcerned, though he was leading a monster who could lunge at someone with only a few seconds of warning.

Snowdin was more peaceful than other regions of the Underground, but the constant snow was difficult on Papyrus. His extremely sensitive vision and hours of sentry work could leave him in agony. Being overstimulated left him like this, most of his processes shut down with only ‘protect Master’ still running. Luckily Sans had convinced Alphys to schedule some of his sentry work in Waterfall, where the dim atmosphere was far kinder to his skull, but Papyrus still had to cope with Snowdin sentry shifts, as unsuited to it as he was.

Home couldn’t come soon enough, home with its dimmer switches and blackout curtains. Feeling the entire town’s eyes on his back, he unlocked the door and shoved Papyrus in forcefully.

It was obviously one of the bad days. Sometimes, just returning home would be enough for Papyrus, and he would curl up on the couch and decompress with a pillow over his eye sockets. Instead, he snarled at Sans as he pulled on the leash, trying to keep him from tracking dirty snow on the carpet. Clearly he wanted to play a more elaborate game.

“Oh, stop that. I know you’re cranky, but we’re not moving on until you wipe your shoes. _Now do it, puppy._ ”

After a nearly-minute long staring contest, Papyrus dipped his head in acquiescence. He dutifully stepped back to the mat, wiped his feet, and kicked off his shoes without a word. When Sans led him across the living room, it took only minimal strength to pull him along; he was resisting, but only a little. Resisting in favor of what, Sans wasn’t sure.

It became more apparent as they headed up the stars. Trying to pull at his leash, Papyrus attempted to go into his room, just as Sans reached for the knob to his. He had to hurriedly grip onto the leash before it slid out of his hand, Papyrus nearly choking himself trying to go inside. “Hush. You can go to your room once I’m done with you, but not before. Stop that!” With a final yank and some blue magic, he pulled Papyrus to the carpet, where he sprawled, whining unhappily. There would probably be a bruise on his vertebrae, and Sans made a mental note to heal it when they were done.

He hooked his fingers into Papyrus’s collar, pulling it up so he had no choice but to look at Sans. “You know what happens to bad little puppies by now, and making a fuss won’t end it any faster. Understand?”

He could have shook his head, and Sans would have dropped the act and let him hide in his room instead. He wouldn’t recover as quickly that way, but it was his choice.

The reply was so quiet Sans almost didn’t catch it. “Yes, master.” He crawled behind Sans into his bedroom. Sans had to tug a little harder to get him to approach what had become a major feature in Sans’s room: an enormous wire dog cage. Usually he kept it covered, but he swept the blanket off as he pulled Papyrus closer.

“How are you feeling? Do you want the cage right now?”

Papyrus couldn’t talk very well when he got like this, especially for things more complicated than yes or no, so he managed a jerky nod, the pretense of struggling falling away for the moment. These days, Sans didn’t worry as much about using the cage, but it was still better to ask _before_ putting him in. Papyrus’s well-being was far more important than staying in character 100% of the time.

Consent confirmed, Sans shoved his brother down with blue magic, pressing him face down into the carpet. Avoiding his thrashing legs, Sans stepped over him and to his desk, looking through a drawer. Velvet today? Leather? Engraved metal? Papyrus hated to go without pressure around his neck, but right now he deserved something nicer than that ragged spiked collar.

He finally made his decision, carrying his supplies back over to Papyrus. Sitting on his brother’s spine, Sans reached out, one hand holding his skull still while the other unlatched his collar. As Papyrus continued to struggle against the blue magic and Sans’s weight (a false struggle, he could have overpowered him if he was trying with his full strength), Sans replaced his heavy spiked collar with a more delicate option. More of a choker than a collar, to be honest, made of delicate ivory lace with tiny charms dangling from the front of it. A beautiful accessory for a precious person.

It was easier to roll him over, as he had apparently exhausted himself. Sans was free to continue, watching his brother for any signs of true distress as he used the rest of his equipment. A thick blindfold of soft material, headphones that were as noise-canceling as Sans could find. Once he had ushered Papyrus into the cage, a pair of soft padded cuffs that were clipped to the wire bars. He made sure Papyrus was settled into a comfortable position, lying on his side with his hands out in front of him. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear him now, Sans stroked at his hands, checking one last time that they could continue.

He got a single tap in response, Papyrus’s indication that he was ready.

Despite the headphones, he jolted a little as the cage door shut, feeling the vibrations through the floor underneath him. Even though he wouldn’t be able to see it, Sans spread out the blanket, fully covering the cage until it was Papyrus’s own little space.

And now, they just had to wait. Sometimes Papyrus didn’t want the blindfold, or he would just use the blindfold and headphones while laying on Sans’s bed, but whatever the method, the goal was to block his senses until he could calm down. Sans removed his armor with slow, careful movements, not wanting to accidentally miss the sound of Papyrus wanting to be let out, with two rapid taps against the bars. Usually it would take more than just a few minutes before he was done, but Sans wanted to be careful.

Once he was properly dressed down in a faded t-shirt and soft pants, he settled against the wall with a book in hand, carefully not to accidentally bump the cage and disturb Papyrus. They both needed to unwind after each day of work, Papyrus’s method was merely more...elaborate. Still waiting for the sound of bone against metal, he began to read.

It was hard not to tear open the cage when he heard faint sobs, muffled by Papyrus probably hiding his face in his jacket’s hood. That had happened the first few times: Papyrus starting to cry without using his signal, Sans mistakenly assuming that something had gone wrong and letting him out too early. The crying was actually a good sign, Papyrus had once explained to him, built-up stress leaving his body. A catharsis.

(The fact that Papyrus could still cry in a world that would have eviscerated him for it... He really was one of the few good monsters left.)

Twenty minutes passed. Papyrus soon quieted down, his crying fading out until Sans wondered if he had fallen asleep. If he had, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. So Sans definitely couldn’t be blamed for jumping when Papyrus spoke up, his voice small and cracked. “I’m sorry I keep doing this, Sans...”

No matter how many times Sans reassured him, he couldn’t fully believe that Sans wanted to play these games. The blanket shifted a little as Papyrus pressed his fingers through the bars, and Sans stroked his hand through the fleece. He couldn’t verbally reassure Papyrus while the headphones were still on, so this was the best he could do. His whimpered apologies trailed off, and he settled back down.

It took another ten minutes and most of a chapter before Papyrus finally was done, delicately tapping at the bars. Sans opened the cage and removed his cuffs, letting Papyrus take off everything else. Luckily the lights in Sans’s room were dimmed, so that taking off the blindfold didn’t overstimulate him all over again. He looked tired out but gave a shy smile when Sans reached out, cupping his face.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better, master,” Papyrus murmured, rubbing at the dried tear tracks on his cheekbones. “Wish you didn’t have to do this so often.”

“Don’t worry about it so much, Papy. I’d do this every day for you, if you needed it.” Though, if Papyrus started experiencing this daily, they would have to find a more suitable job for him. That much terror and pain on a _daily_ basis was too much to put his brother through, and he had enough social standing as a Guard that maybe he could convince Alphys to make a transfer.

Sans helped him stand up. His legs were a little wobbly from being curled up, but he followed Sans to the bathroom, their hands linked.

While the bath was filling, Papyrus sat on the bath rug, skull tilted back. Underneath the lace choker, a faint bruise had started to form. Papyrus’s posture shifted the moment it was untied and set aside, his shoulders slumped, spine not as ramrod straight. He sighed happily when Sans dabbed a bit of green magic on his vertebrae. His wrists hadn’t bruised from the cuffs, but he added some healing there too, just to be sure.

He even poured a few drops of unscented bubble bath into the tub, a rare find from the garbage dumps. Papyrus’s sense of smell was not as sensitive as his vision, but it would have been tormenting rather than pleasurable had it reeked of some perfume. That sort of thing was hard to come by in monster shops, a luxury item that they could barely afford with their combined salaries. Sans didn’t use it himself, rationing it for Papyrus’s bad days.

“Bathe for as long as you want, and then we’ll have dinner.” Usually he liked to experiment in the kitchen, creating elaborate dishes that, perhaps, were sometimes a little over the top. A true chef was an innovator! They pushed boundaries, regardless of what cowardly recipe books said! But when Papyrus was stressed, spices and strong flavors made him nauseated. He liked simple foods: sandwiches with barely any toppings, pastas with light sauces, plain oatmeal. All the culinary pride in the world wasn’t worth handing Papyrus something he could barely put in his mouth.

Just as he was about to leave and let Papyrus bathe in peace, he caught Sans by the wrist, gently pulling him back. Papyrus pulled him forward, curving around him in a hug. They fit together perfectly, Papyrus’s jaw resting on top of Sans’s skull. “I love you, bro.” ‘Bro’ rather than ‘master,’ signaling that Papyrus was back to normal, for now. Until the next time.

“I love you too, Papyrus.” He hoped Papyrus could feel it in how tightly Sans held onto him, not wanting to let go. The proof that Papyrus forgave him for the leash, for the yelling, for the personas he had created for them both, all in a single clinging hug. For him, the game always ended at an embrace.

Someday, they would live in a place where it didn’t snow.

**Author's Note:**

> "Master is an inherently sexual title, you can't make that platonic." Then I HAD to write it to be contrary, even if it's mediocre, so fuck you 0netype. :P
> 
> I'm not sure I'm set on these fellswap characterizations, but I don't expect I'm going to write a lot of it anyway.


End file.
